Of Chocolate Frogs and Demonology
by Sneakoscopic
Summary: The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. Two expats in a foreign land. An unexpected relationship grows in the shadow of a nefarious plot. BZHG
1. Fizzing Whizbees

The way to a man's heart is through his stomach. Two expats in a foreign land. An unexpected relationship grows in the shadow of a nefarious plot. BZ/HG

If you recognise something, chances are it comes from either J.K. Rowling or H.P. Lovecraft. It's a crossover of sorts - J.K.'s characters with H.P.'s world (so Lovecraftian knowledge is absolutely not needed). I own nothing here, and am not profiting one jot. On with the show!

Of Chocolate Frogs and Demonology

**Chapter 1 - Fizzing Whizbees**

It was strange that New England looked little like England, or anywhere in Great Britain for that matter. Yet sitting in her snug alcove this winter, looking across the snowy expanse of the Miskatonic University campus grounds, Hermione Granger could almost believe she was back at Hogwarts for Christmas. However, the Atlantic was too far to apparate even for such a talented witch, and so Hermione resigned herself instead to opening a Chocolate Frog from the comfort package Harry and Ron had sent her for Christmas. Looking through her oversized shoulder bag, she sifted through packs of Every Flavoured Beans, Sugar Quills and Acid Pops, as well as muggle sweets such as Turkish Delight, mint humbugs and sherbet lemons courtesy of Harry. Looking through them all, she found a Chocolate Frog and pulled it out of the bag.

After carefully opening the box, she grabbed hold of the Frog in one hand to stop it from escaping and idly flipped over the laminated card. Hermione gasped as she saw her own face staring back at her. _Hermione Granger, together with her friends Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley, defeated the dark wizard Voldemort, for which she received the Order of Merlin First Class,_ it read. _Widely recognised as one of the greatest Muggleborn witches of Great Britain, she is known for her work in the creation of the Immolatio charm. _It went on to say that she enjoyed reading, latin dance and the company of top Quidditch players. The frog hopped out of her grasp as she stared at the card in shock while her image waved at her and smiled. It gave her a queasy feeling as she was suddenly reminded of everything she had come to America to avoid.

They were all trying to cope with it, Hermione thought sadly. Ron, with his sudden appetite for all the trappings of fame which had eventually caused the end of their relationship. Harry, who cloistered himself in the Department of Mysteries and wouldn't speak to people for days on end. And of course Hermione herself, who had severed almost all ties as she started a new life based around the scholarship she received from Miskatonic University.

But her fame had caught up with her at last.

"Well, Merry Christmas I guess," she muttered to herself.

* * *

Blaise Zabini had never noticed this particular stairwell in the Orne Library. This was unusual, given the amount of time he spent there and the amount of time he had spent in exploring the area, yet the fact was indisputable. It wound up in a tight, claustrophobic spiral, and it seemed to lead to one of the many strange towers and secret alcoves which dotted the campus of Miskatonic University. Just as he was contemplating whether to explore it, a small Chocolate Frog hopped slowly down the stairs. It got down to the bottom until with a spasmodic jerk, the charm expired and it stayed where it was, staring blankly at Blaise. He quickly scooped it up, marvelling at his luck, for Chocolate Frogs were almost impossible to buy in America. But his smile faded and his eyes narrowed as he realised it meant there was someone in the tower. Lodging his books firmly underneath one arm and holding the Chocolate Frog in the other, he moved his tall frame up the narrow stone stairs.

Coming at last to an open doorway at the top of the stairs, he looked through it and was greeted by the sight of the back of someone's head. A head with large quantities of very bushy brown hair. The owner of said hair was seated in a love seat next to the only window in the turret and was currently rocking back in forth in hysterical laughter.

"Excuse me?" Blaise said quietly. The brown-haired head turned around Blaise found himself looking down at none other than Hermione Granger, formerly of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Out of sheer shock, he exclaimed "Bloody hell Granger!"

Hermione was started out of her temporary insanity by a smooth voice speaking in, of all things, an English accent. And swearing at her. She blushed, then started as she recognised Blaise who had been in her year at Hogwarts.

"Why are you here Zabini?" she asked, her voice cold.

"Because Miskatonic University has the best Demonology department in the wizarding world," Blaise said casually.

"No, that's not what I-" Hermione started saying then stopped, sighing and rolling her eyes when she realised she was doing exactly what he wanted her to. _Damn Slytherins_, she thought. Blaise just stood there, a faint smirk on his handsome features. He looked down his nose at her seated figure and their eyes met, the tension in the air ratcheting up as brown eyes met brown in mutual distrust. Hermione shifted her gaze down from his dark eyes and suddenly noticed her Chocolate Frog gripped tightly in his hand, which set her off again into a fit of laughter.

Blaise furrowed his brow, disconcerted. He had no idea why she was laughing so crazily. But she didn't seem to be laughing at him. He resolved to wait her out and leaned against the wall, his arms crossed across his chest.

"F... f... fr..." Hermione spluttered. "You have my frog" she finally said through her tears of laughter.

"You mean this Chocolate Frog is yours?" Blaise asked, surprised. A thought struck him and abandoning his disdain he said quickly "Do you have the card as well?"

For a second, Hermione looked like she'd go back into uncontrollable laughter. Instead, she closed her eyes and brought herself under control. She reached out with her right hand and unclenched her fist, in which a Famous Wizard card lay.

Blaise took it from her hand and flipped it over. The brown haired witch in the photo glared at him and shook her fist, and with a start Blaise looked back up at Hermione, then back at the card. In shock he dropped the Chocolate Frog and grasped the card in both hands, bringing it closer to his face to examine it better. The Hermione in the photo pointed and laughed at him in a distinct _I told you so _gesture, so he turned over the card to read the blurb.

"It's not true about the Latin dance," Hermione said suddenly, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "I don't know where they got that from."

Blaise still said nothing, his face still. He found that the old adage _It is better to keep one's mouth shut and be thought a fool than to open it and remove all doubt _had served him well throughout the years and so he kept quiet, hiding his confusion behind a mask of calm.

But Hermione was going to have none of that. "Well? Aren't you going to say anything?" she said.

Blaise shook his head, trying to clear it. "You know," he began cautiously, "In some circles a having your own Famous Wizard card is considered more prestigious than an Order of Merlin. After all, an Order of Merlin can be bought."

Hermione was confused. This was a complete change from the arrogant youth she remembered from Hogwarts, even from the cold young man who had entered the tower carrying a Chocolate Frog.

Blaise continued, unaware of Hermione's confusion. "I... I used to collect these cards. I never-" Blaise paused to gather his thoughts. "I'm sorry Granger. I... I underestimated you." Their eyes met, and both Hermione and Blaise knew that this was also a tacit apology for the years of animosity at Hogwarts. Embarrassed by his sudden honesty, Blaise turned abruptly and made his way down the stairs out of the tower.

However, right before he reached the bottom, he heard steps hurrying down the stairs behind him and sure enough when he turned he saw Hermione standing nervously on the stairs behind him.

"Wait," she said, slightly out of breath. "Look, do you want to share my stash of Chocolate Frogs?"

"What?" Blaise blurted out without thinking. Regaining his composure, he said more smoothly "I mean of course I'd like to, but why?"

"Forgive and forget, right?" Hermione said uncomfortably, unsure of how Blaise would react. "If I didn't forgive everyone who was mean to me, I'd have no friends left. Even Harry and Ron made fun of me in first year."

Out of the revelations this day brought, funnily enough this was the one which surprised Blaise the most. Hoping Hermione didn't notice his initial surprise, he settled for responding dryly "I thought you three came conjoined at the waist from the Hogwarts Express."

Hermione stiffened, then relaxed as she realised he was joking. She smiled tentatively at Blaise and they made their way back up the stairs in a companionable silence, seating themselves in the love seat that Hermione occupied earlier.

As soon as they sat down however, the level of discomfort in the air increased. Hermione covered her own feelings of discomfiture this by going over to her oversized shoulder bag and rummaging around in it.

"Aha!" Hermione said, waving a small cardboard box she managed to fish out from her her bag. "Are you familiar with muggle sweets?" she asked and Blaise shook his head. Prising open the box, she showed Blaise the neat rows of small pink jellies which lay in the box. "These are called Turkish Delights. Made from 100 authentic Turks," Hermione joked weakly.

"You shouldn't say that. I used to have relatives in Istanbul," Blaise said seriously.

"I'm sorry, it was in poor taste."

"Don't worry," Blaise said with a small grin, "It was only stepfather number four and he was a prat anyway."

Hermione raised her eyebrows at him and took out one Turkish Delight from the box, extending it towards Blaise. To her surprise, instead of taking the sweet in his hand, Blaise opened his mouth. Their eyes met as Hermione uncertainly placed the sweet in his mouth, and his lips briefly brushed her fingers as she did so. Looking away, Hermione busied herself with looking through her bag for more sweets while Blaise seemed content with pretending nothing had happened and was thoughtfully eating his sweet.

"Mmmm," Blaise said. "What do they put in these things?"

Hermione smiled. "Rosewater. Seems odd doesn't it?"

"Yeah, I can just imagine Professor Mercapto's expression if he caught us trying to eat our way through his potions ingredients," Blaise said with a laugh.

"You know, there's a muggle book about an evil witch who uses Turkish Delight to trick an innocent muggle boy into doing her will," Hermione said seriously.

"Are you saying I'm innocent?" Blaise asked, grinning playfully.

"I don't think I can say you're anything yet. We haven't even been properly introduced." Hermione said, and before Blaise could interrupt, she continued. "My name is Hermione Jane Granger, pleased to meet you.. I offer you this Chocolate Frog-" Hermione grabbed a Chocolate Frog from her bag and handed it formally to Blaise, "-as a token of my goodwill."

Blaise smirked. Two could play this game. "Gracious lady, I am your most humble servant Blaise Antonio Zabini. You may call me Blaise, if it so pleases you." He winked at her, and continued. "I must say I am deeply honoured to meet the renowned progenitor of the Immolatio charm," He took Hermione's hand and laid a gentle kiss on it. "I hope that this mere Quidditch deficient presence will be enough to keep you entertained,_ mia cara_."

Hermione blinked a little at the charisma oozing from Blaise. At Hogwarts she had always thought he was quiet and shy, yet that idea was gone as she watched the young man before her. Though he was joking, his movements were graceful and his voice was compelling, mesmerising her. For that moment, he was magnetic and alluring, and Hermione imagined this was how men felt in the presence of veela.

"And now, I think the usual order is that we make small talk," Hermione said and cleared her voice, hoping her voice didn't shake, "I'll start. What occupies your days in the fair reaches of Arkham, Massachusetts?"

Blaise said with a smirk, "I already told you."

"When?" Hermione asked, thinking back over their conversation.

"When-" Blaise began, but Hermione interrupted him.

"Oh! So you're studying Demonology then?"

"Yes, I'm currently doing my Master's in Demonology. I'm doing a study into the synergy between summoner and summonee and the methods of enhancing it."

Hermione nodded, her forehead faintly creased with thought. Blaise continued, seemingly oblivious to Hermione's consternation.

"I also work part-time here in the Orne library assisting Dr. Armitage, the curator of the Demonology collection."

"Wow. That's a dream job compared to mine," Hermione said, impressed. She sighed and said "I tutor freshmen in Ancient Runes. Honestly, just the other day someone managed to use the Etruscan word for penis instead of potato. Good thing I stopped him before he completed the incantation."

Blaise laughed. He had a very nice laugh, Hermione reflected. It was similar to his voice, a light graceful sound which could switch from humour to deadly disdain in a second. His distance was what made him such an enigma at Hogwarts and yet his contradictions made him no less of one, despite it being years later.

Speaking of which... "Blaise," Hermione said hesitantly. "I don't mean to be rude, but why are you taking Demonology? I mean, you were quite a good student at Hogwarts from what I remember, but even Muggles manage Demonology some of the time."

Blaise's expression changed suddenly. He laughed, but it was a bitter laugh, completely different from his previous smile. "I suppose you could say it's my doom," he said grimly.

Seeing Hermione's confused look, "I'm descended from Abdullah Alhazred," he said, then stopped again as though he had said too much.

"Abdullah Alhazred..." Hermione murmured. "The so-called 'Mad Arab'. Eighth century AD, author of-" Hermione sat up, eyes wide. "-the Necronomicon."

"Yeah, the original guide to demon summoning." Blaise said, voice still full of bitterness. "Apparently madness and demons are passed down through the male line of the Alhazreds. So here I am," Blaise raised an arm, indicating his surroundings. "-fulfilling a family curse."

"You're not mad," Hermione said bluntly. An uncomfortable silence stretched between them, as Hermione struggled to come up with something neutral and unthreatening to say, while Blaise was overcoming his surprise at the vehemence with which Hermione had spoken.

Hermione decided to change the topic, and asked "So Zabini is your mother's surname?", but at the same time, Blaise asked "So why are you here Granger?"

They both looked at each other for a second, uncertainly. Hermione took a deep breath and began to speak. "I'm here on a scholarship. After Voldemort was defeated, we - that is, Harry and Ron and I - were inunduated with offers from wizarding universities.. I was the only one who really wanted to go on to university though; Ron wanted to play Quidditch and Harry's an Unspeakable now."

Blaise frowned slightly at Hermione's uncharacteristic avoidance of the question. "But why here?" he insisted, emphasising the last word.

"I guess after saving wizarding Britain from Voldemort, so to speak, I wanted to do something useless for a change. Ancient Runes is the subject with the least relevance to the modern world, so I chose that. The Orne Library has the largest collection of literature on Ancient Runes this side of the Atlantic."

"Interesting," Blaise said, nodding. But Hermione frowned and continued.

"It wasn't just that though," she sighed. "You know, the _Prophet_ staked out my parents' house in the middle of Muggle Cambridge just so they could catch a glimpse of Harry when he came to visit, then wrote up in their gossip column that I was seeing him. I broke up with Ron because of that actually," she said with a wistful smile. "After that news broke, the _Prophet _got photos of him in Psiren's with their top dancer and that ended our relationship. I had to get away from all that."

"So you fled." Blaise said flatly. With a mocking tone, he said "That doesn't seem very Gryffindor of you."

"I was never 'very Gryffindor'," Hermione said defensively. "The Sorting Hat considered putting me in Ravenclaw for quite a while before it eventually decided on Gryffindor."

"I see," Blaise said. "The Hat tried to put me in Ravenclaw initially as well. I refused and it put me in Slytherin."

"Why did you refuse Ravenclaw?"

Blaise snorted. "Have you seen the nutcases who get sorted into Ravenclaw? That Loony girl is insane, and Chang from our year was definitely losing it. There's a reason we called them the Raving claws in the Serpent's den."

"Did Malfoy come up with that?" Hermione narrowed her eyes.

"What makes you ask?" Blaise responded, voice suddenly coolly.

Hermione wouldn't back down. "It just smacks of his idiocy," she said, her voice hard.

"Why yes I believe it does Granger," Blaise said and smiled - a real smile which spread slowly across his face and into his eyes, enhancing his natural attractiveness. Then the smile faded and Blaise paused for a moment, looking off into the distance. "Maybe I would have made a better Ravenclaw than Slytherin," he said quietly.

"You seemed to do a fine job of being a Slytherin," Hermione said, suddenly unfriendly.

Blaise could see where this was heading and replied acidly, "Yeah well I only 'seemed' to. Look, I was insecure enough to have to suck up to Malfoy. It was a survival mechanism. I'm sorry alright?"

"No, I'm the one who should be sorry. What's done is done after all," Hermione said. "Here-" she said, pulling a fizzing whizbee from her bag, "-have this."

"Why are you doing this?" Blaise said.

"Doing what?" Hermione asked, puzzled.

Frustrated, Blaise raised his voice. "I've done nothing but insult you for the past decade. Instead of joining the Order of the Phoenix, I fled to Italy. I'm still too proud to apologise to you properly. I'm not even sure whether I like you. Why are you forgiving me?" He finished then looked away, beginning to gather up his things in order to leave.

"Look at me," Hermione said. When Blaise still didn't turn his head, she reached over and pulled his head towards her. Looking into his dark eyes, she said slowly and clearly, "Stop beating yourself up about it. I don't know why but I like you, and there's nothing you can do about it. Besides, even if I didn't like you, you're the only person here from Hogwarts who I can talk to. So just smile and take the bloody fizzing whizbee."

"Nott's studying Necromancy at the Medical School," Blaise muttered. When Hermione didn't respond, he sat down resignedly and took the fizzing whizbee. In a louder voice, Blaise said, "Look, are you all right with this? I mean, if it gets out to the _Prophet_ that we've been seen talking, next thing you know they'll say I'm trying to kill you for your fortune or something."

Hermione laughed. "See, that's why I like talking to you. You've got a wonderful sense of humour." She beamed at him, and Blaise, who was about to say that he was being serious, just stared at her in astonishment.

"You know Granger-" he said seriously.

"Hermione," she interrupted.

"Right, Hermione," Blaise said. "You know Hermione, I think I'm beginning to like you."

Hermione coughed. Hesitantly, she asked "Then, uh, do you want to spend Christmas with me? There's a place in Arkham which is open for Christmas dinner. I've been there several times for lunch and it's quite good." Hermione said, turning slightly red in the cheeks, though that could be attributed to the cold.

"Well the only one looking forward to seeing me is mad great grandad Abdullah," he said with a slight smile, gesturing to his copy of _The Annotated Necronomicon: Student Edition_, "And I think he can wait."

"I'll meet you at six in front of the statue of Whipple Van Buren Phillips then?" Hermione said.

"Ok," Blaise said. "It's a date then." As soon as the words escaped his lips, he regretted them.

"Um, ok," Hermione said, turning slightly pink. "Anyway, I should go now. I'll see you tonight."

And before Blaise could say anything, she was gone. He looked down at the fizzing whizbee clasped in his hand and then at the Chocolate Frog sitting on the floor, still not believing the conversation he just had. He shook his head and said to himself "Merry Christmas Blaise."

A/N I've never been to Great Britain or New England in my life, so for all I know they're carbon copies of one another. Having seen other examples of colonialist naming tendencies though, somehow I doubt it.

The muggle Turkish Delight story referenced is, of course, The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe by C.S Lewis (another fabulous writer of the fantastic who goes by his two first initials, the other two of course being JKR and HPL).

Dr. Armitage appears in The Dunwich Horror by H.P. Lovecraft. Funnily enough, I found this story because someone on a message board said the Whateleys in that story reminded them of the Gaunt family in HBP.

_The Necronomicon _belongs to H.P. Lovecraft, though it makes appearances in all sorts of places. Abdul Alhazred too.

"Ancient Runes is the subject with the least relevance to the modern world, so I chose that." - is of course a reference to _The Importance of Ancient Runes _and its sequel _Ancient Runes in the Modern World_, a great inspiration for this fic.

I won't be updating this for a while, so don't be surprised if it goes for several months without an update. 


	2. Christmas Pudding

The way to a man's heart is through his stomach. Two expats in a foreign land. An unexpected relationship grows in the shadow of a nefarious plot. BZ/HG

If you recognise something, chances are it comes from either J.K. Rowling or H.P. Lovecraft. It's a crossover of sorts - J.K.'s characters with H.P.'s world (so Lovecraftian knowledge is absolutely not needed). I own nothing here, and am not profiting one jot. On with the show!

Of Chocolate Frogs and Demonology

**Chapter 2 - Christmas Pudding  
**

Blaise paced back and forth in front of the life-sized marble statue of Whipple Van Buren Phillips. Stopping, he read the inscription for the fifth time. Most distinguished contributor to the founding of Miskatonic University, it said. Which means what exactly? Blaise thought to himself. He adjusted his emerald velvet robe over his shoulders and fiddled with the cuffs of the white shirt he wore below it. His appearance, carefully constructed by his mother's expert French tailor, was the very essence of old world elegance, cut in the style of vintage wizarding fashion. On anyone else it may have looked ridiculous, but on Blaise's tall frame it was stylish in a way which had many of the witches in the hallway craning their necks back for a second look.

At six exactly, Hermione arrived. Blaise found himself looking over her appearance with the practised eye of an accomplished clotheshorse. Her burgundy silk dress robes were well cut, and Blaise admired the gold thread embroidered delicately around the hems of the long sleeves. Her hair was pulled back from her face and she carried over her arm a black wool hooded cloak, trimmed with gold silk.

"You look lovely this evening Granger," Blaise said, taking the cloak from Hermione and settling it about her shoulders.

"Likewise," Hermione said, nodding vigorously. "Well that is, I mean you look handsome. After all, 'lovely' is the sort of thing grandmothers say about flowers or something. Mind you, my grandmothers are both dead, but you know what I mean. No, no, I'm not saying you're a grandmother either... what am I saying?"

Hermione looked up at him and blushed, then looked down at the floor, but Blaise just looked amused. When she looked back up at him, her blush was gone and she was grinning instead. Blaise smiled back. "Shall we?" he said, holding out his arm to her.

* * *

"So what's this restaurant like?" Blaise asked as they picked their way carefully along the snow-covered track leading to the town of Arkham.

"It's called _The Fluffy Sock_." Hermione paused, wondering how best to explain.

"The _Fluffy Sock_?" Blaise raised an eyebrow incredulously. "I'm not sure I want to eat at a place named after footwear."

"Don't be a snob Blaise," Hermione said lightly. "It's because it's run by house-elves."

Ignoring Blaise's look of horror, Hermione continued. "It's horrible how they're treated, isn't it? I actually started an organisation in fourth year called the Society for the Promotion of Elvish Welfare and I spent ages trying to get the Hogwarts elves to free themselves, because no creature should go through that."

Blaise remained silent, confused by the witch walking ahead of him. He privately thought that only an idiot would bother to try and free creatures that seemed to enjoy servitude as much as house-elves, yet it was also clear to him that Hermione Granger was no idiot. Intrigued, he gestured for her to continue.

"Anyway, I came here and I found this restaurant," Hermione continued. "It's house-elf owned and operated, can you believe it? So I told them about Dobby - the Malfoy's old house-elf - and how we managed to free him from Lucius Malfoy. They must have got a hold of Dobby through some sort of house elf grapevine because the next time I went all they would talk about was the 'Great Harry Potter'. I've kind of benefited by association, so I keep going there. And of course the food is wonderful."

Blaise was beginning to feel alarmed. He'd heard of revolutionaries, but this was ridiculous.

"The Great Harry Potter?" Blaise raised an eyebrow, and Hermione laughed.

"It's what Dobby called him after he was freed in second year and- oh we're here!" The trees had thinned and sure enough, they had come onto a road. Directly in front of them was squat two storey rounded building painted in garishly clashing colours and patterns all over.

"The very cutting edge of house-elf design?" Blaise said wryly, and Hermione looked cross for a second, then grinned.

"You should see the inside," was all she said as she led him towards it.

They entered the building through a door small enough to cause Blaise to have to duck his head a little, and his eyes widened as he took in the decor. On every surface was an item of clothing was affixed. The floor was covered in brightly coloured socks, the walls were wallpapered with shirts. The ceiling had a variety of pants overlapping each other, and out of the corner of his eye Blaise was sure he could even see a pair of lederhosen. They reached a counter covered in aprons, and Hermione looked puzzled as she said "There's usually someone here."

After three minutes of waiting, Blaise sat down on a couch made of assorted headgear. Hermione wondered to herself how he managed to make himself look as though sitting on a sombrero was exactly where he belonged. He seemed to match his surroundings perfectly, despite the current surroundings being an assortment of ridiculous looking hats. Hermione laughed quietly as she imagined Blaise being a pirate hat or a tatty old fedora and Blaise looked up at her, affronted.

When Hermione didn't respond to his look, Blaise leaned forward and picked up a copy of the _Arkham Advertiser_ sitting on a table made of shoes. He idly flicked through articles about the miserable showing of the Miskatonic Aurochs at the World University Quidditch Championships and of notices about the city council's new town beautification initiative, and after a few minutes, Hermione sat down next to him, busily pretending not to read over his shoulder. Blaise glanced behind him briefly, then lingered over a Letter to the Editor from a Mr. P. Snodgrass, regarding Muggleborns and university admission. Taking a quick glance to his left, Blaise noticed Hermione's face growing an interesting shade of purple and smirked.

Just then, there was a loud pop and the largest house-elf Blaise had ever seen appeared behind the apron-counter.

"Letty is sorry, Miss Hermione Granger!" said the house-elf in a high pitched squeal which made Blaise wince. "Moppy is meant to be watching the counter, Moppy is a lazy house-elf!" Letty said vehemently.

Letty was larger than usual for a house-elf, standing almost four and a half feet tall, and had an erect posture unusual for the species. She was proudly wearing a faintly discoloured white men's dress shirt which draped over her in a strange combination of wizard robes and Roman toga. While her clothing was ridiculous, she had a sharp set to her eyes indicating a shrewd intelligence and these eyes were fixed on Hermione.

"Please follow Letty to your table, Miss Hermione Granger and Miss's Man-friend!" Blaise was amused as Hermione blushed at Letty's description of Blaise.

They came to a small alcove decorated with animal slippers, with a window facing out into the snowy forest beyond. Blaise stood and helped Hermione out of her cloak, placing it carefully on the chair next to her and pulled out her chair before sitting down himself.

Looking quickly at the menus placed on the plates before them, Hermione said clearly into thin air "I would like two of the Christmas dinner."

There was again an uncomfortable silence, and Hermione began fidget uneasily. "Oh I almost forgot!" Hermione exclaimed. "Do you want a bottle of wine or something to drink?"

"No, it's alright," Blaise drawled, "I only drink at weddings." He grinned at Hermione, and she smiled back, breaking some of the tension.

"You never answered my question," Hermione said, playing with her fork.

"Which was?" Blaise asked, raising an eyebrow.

"If your father is an Alhazred, then is Zabini your mother's name?" Hermione said.

Blaise nodded. "My maternal grandparents came to Britain from Italy."

"Do wizards do this often? I mean, for Muggles it's almost unheard of to take your mother's last name," Hermione asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

"I don't know about anyone else but for me it was more of a practicality issue. People tend to think bad things when they hear the name Alhazred." Blaise smirked a little. "Besides, if I'd taken my father's name, I probably would have had to change it every time my mother remarried. Which means I'd be Blaise Antonio Zabini Alhazred Deveraux Kerr-Douglas Ayanami Effendi Elbourne-"

"Ok ok I think I get it," Hermione said hastily.

"-Black Murdoch Almásy." He exhaled. "She's up to number 9 now."

"Black? As in the British wizarding family?"

"Yeah, I think a cousin of some sort. I was related to Malfoy for that period," Blaise shuddered rather artistically.

Hermione grinned and retorted "See the advantages of being Muggleborn?"

Blaise was saved from having to reply by the arrival of the Christmas turkey, appearing suddenly on the plates in front of them.

"To old acquaintances and new friends," Hermione raised her glass of water to Blaise and smiled. Blaise smiled tentatively back and took in the food sitting in front of him. It was a rather gorgeous turkey, roasted to perfection and helpfully reducio-ed to a size manageable to eat for the two of them. It smelt wonderful, a heady mix of herbs that Blaise assumed was due to the stuffing.

There was silence punctuated with chewing noises while they both made inroads into their food. After several minutes of this, Hermione looked up at Blaise squarely, her turkey ignored for the time being. Blaise kept eating calmly and Hermione couldn't tell whether he was deliberately ignoring her or whether he truly was oblivious. They sat this way for several minutes, until Blaise (with his fork halfway between his mouth and his plate) broke the silence and said "You might as well just say it."

"Fine then, I will." Hermione frowned. "Why did you treat me so badly at Hogwarts?"

Blaise carefully placed his fork onto his plate and contemplated it for a few seconds, before looking up at Hermione. "I did what I had to," he said calmly. "A Gryffindor like yourself wouldn't understand."

"What's that meant to mean?" Hermione snapped. "I thought you were sorry."

Blaise kept his eyes on Hermione in that disconcerting way of his. "I am," he said quietly. "More than you'll ever know."

"Well then why can't you explain it?" Hermione asked, still irked.

"It was through cowardice." Blaise looked down at his plate. "After all, I was only put into Slytherin by process of elimination."

"I thought Hufflepuff was where people were put due to cowardice and by process of elimination," Hermione said, curious despite her annoyance.

Blaise spoke again as though he didn't hear her. In a casual tone of boredom almost masking the bitterness beneath, he said "After I refused Ravenclaw, the Hat ruled out Hufflepuff because I had no friends, then ruled out Gryffindor because I'm a fucking coward and by then there was only Slytherin left. And before you say anything, I was a crap Slytherin anyway. I think I only got in because my mother was a Slytherin as well."

They continued eating in silence. Hermione was still irked by Blaise's enigmatic yet obtuse response to her question.

"So what's your family like?" Blaise asked suddenly.

"Why do you want to know?" Hermione shot back quickly.

"You've asked about mine, so I believe I have the right to hear about yours."

"There's nothing to tell really," Hermione stabbed a piece of ham with her fork. "My father's name is Michael, my mother's name is Jane and they're both dentists. I'm an only child, my grandparents are all dead. I want to know about your family."

Blaise shook his head. "I don't know why I should tell you any of this. Has anyone told you that you're far too curious for your own good, Granger?"

Hermione had the grace to blush, but obstinately raised her chin and replied "I'm used to Slytherins saying things like that. Snape used to say it all the time, but judging by his fate I'd say he didn't have the best judgement."

Blaise nodded his head, acknowledging the point. "Fine," he said, then smiled a little in spite of himself. "But I'll have you know I'm only doing this for access to your cache of British sweets. Now what do you want to know?"

Hermione cocked her head to one side and asked "Did your mother really kill all of her husbands?"

"Hell Granger, you don't exactly go for subtlety do you?" Blaise said dryly.

"Well?" Hermione clasped her hands on the table and looked expectantly at Blaise.

"If you must know," Blaise said sarcastically, "she's..." Blaise faltered, suddenly uncertain. He looked down to see that Hermione's small hand somehow made its way across the table to cover his own larger, darker one. A thin, pale finger was tracing circles on the back of his hand and he looked up into Hermione's eyes and saw... pity? Sympathy? Before he could ascertain what it was, he quickly broke eye contact and withdrew his hand. Ignoring the way he could still feel the sensation of her fingertips, he said flatly "She's cursed."

Hermione's eyes opened wide. "Cursed... can't you break it?"

"Don't you think we've tried?" Blaise's expression was blank, but his tone was bitter.

"Sorry," Hermione said, looking abashed. But she leant forward and continued "What mechanism does it work through? What class of curse is it? Who placed it?"

"You want to try and break it yourself? Good luck, it's a class five curse. Basically, it kills anyone she falls in love with."

"Yet each man kills the thing he loves, by each let this be heard," Hermione murmured quietly.

"Not each man, just Jolie Zabini," Blaise said, still bitter.

"It's a quotation from a poem. 'The Ballad of Reading Gaol' by Oscar Wilde, you should look it up. Though they arrested him for sodomy and he died a pauper in Paris, so maybe not."

On that note they finished their turkey in silence and started on the Christmas pudding and mince pies which appeared in their plates before them.

"This reminds me of being at the Slug club," Hermione said, savouring the taste of the pudding. "Do you remember it?"

"Yes," Blaise looked at Hermione steadily. "We had one dance at the Christmas party."

"We did?" Hermione said, a forkful of pudding pausing halfway to her lips. "I don't remember."

"I do." Blaise looked at Hermione calmly. "You were wearing forest green dress robes and I was surprised that you danced quite well. I cut in, because you were dancing with that McLaggen wanker and I wanted to piss him off. It was to 'Dance Like a Banshee' by The Ramoras. Not terribly romantic." Blaise kept his intense dark gaze on Hermione, who looked away. Blaise found himself itching to smooth away the brown curls falling into her face and clenched his fists firmly beneath the table.

Hermione suddenly began to cough violently, almost upsetting the Christmas pudding on the plate in front of her. Blaise narrowed his eyes for a spilt second, then stood.

"You're ill. It's time we went back, Granger," Blaise already had Hermione's cloak and was grabbing her elbow, urging her up.

"Wait Blaise, I'm all right," Hermione gasped.

Blaise took no notice of her and asked curtly, "Where are your lodgings?"

"I live in the Moira Monaghan Memorial Scholar Cottage, why?" Hermione said, her tongue tripping over the syllables awkwardly, exacerbated by her lack of breath.

Blaise had managed to get Hermione into her cloak and was steering her towards the door as he replied, "In your current condition I think it is best if you return immediately. I shall escort you to your rooms."

Before Hermione could protest, he paid Letty at the counter, sorting through the unfamiliar coinage with a speed Hermione admired. Letty opened the door for them and Blaise pulled Hermione after him into the blue night. 


End file.
